9: Sentient 0
by Snodin
Summary: Post-film, three parts. While on a salvaging trip, the Stitchpuks uncover an ancient treasure... along with one stubborn war-beast.
1. Buried Treasure

9: Sentient 0

A fanfic inspired by the film "9" by Shane Acker

Written by Snodin

ACT I: Buried Treasure

"3, 4! Wait up!"

The twins were moving too far ahead of 7 and 9, as the four surviving Stitchpunks traveled through the old neighborhood once occupied by humans, now a barren wasteland. The twins, 3 and 4, were all too eager to catalogue any and everything from discarded shoes on the street curb to crumbled buildings, their camera lens eyes flickering with every observation. None of this information mattered, it was all just an act of curiosity.

Their "parents," on the other hand, were more focused on gathering goods such as nuts, bolts, and other scraps that were lying around, in hopes of using them as tools for a new home, a place that they could truly call their own. So far, they had recovered a large screwdriver, string, and barbed wire- all were saddled onto 9's makeshift backpack of burlap. Unlike him, 7 was as cautious as ever, wielding both a bird skull-helmet and a spear made of a razorblade and thin pole. She leapt from object to object, ready to pounce on anything that looked hostile. Only there were no war-beasts left, they were all gone, wiped out in the aftermath of The B.R.A.I.N.'s total destruction.

But you couldn't convince 7 of that.

In response to 9's plea to the twins, 7 called back to him from atop a crashed car. "You're the one trailing, 9."

"I'm not trailing, I'm just… taking my time."

"The more ground we cover, the better. We can't stay in one place, there could be spies."

9 sighed, time and time again he tried to tell her that the war was over. But it was no use, her inner warrior was itching for a fight, no matter what. And so he walked on without argument.

Meanwhile, the youngsters of the family were now half a block ahead. They stopped only to observe the remains of a deceased human- a skeleton clad in body armor from the war. He had been shot down, pulverized from the waist. To a human, it would have been a gruesome sight, but to 3 and 4 it was just another opportunity to catalogue.

3 ran over to the fractured skull to observe to damage to the helmet, while 4 began to dig into the pockets of the worn blouse under shattered armor. He/she managed to pull out a black and white photo of the man's family- a wife and two children. 4 was pleased with this find, and smiled widely. This attracted the other twin, who rushed in and tried to pull the photo away. Like any rivaling siblings, they engaged in a game of Tug-O-War over the photo, until the wind picked up and forced it out of their hands.

Still entranced by the photo, the twins raced after it as it tumbled in the wind, until it slipped through the cracks of an ancient sewer way. They hung over the edge of the pit, hesitant to fall in after their prize. But then, 3 turned to 4 with eyes flashing, as though challenging its sibling to go in first. 4 flashed its eyes back, declining and counter-challenging.

"4? 3?" called out 7 in the distance.

Her voice alarmed them, but 3 was particularly stunned as its grip on the muddy ground caused it to slip. In an instant, the little Stitchpunk had fallen into the abyss, as 4 looked on in sheer horror. In desperation, it flashed its eyes to catch sight of 3's landing, but its eye light just wasn't strong enough.

7 had finally caught up with 4, and was quick to notice its deeply saddened face. "What happened?"

All 4 could do was point downward into the sewer way. 7 confirmed with a small, "No…"

Not all was lost. 3 did indeed fall down very far into an underground world, but landed rather softly, since its body was made mostly of wool and cotton anyway. It was only briefly stunned, but soon regained its composure and began to catalogue the rusty walls of the lead pipe. There was moss or lycan surrounding it, and a small stream of muddy water mixed with filth under it. 3 wasn't the least bit frightened, more like intrigued. If only 4 were here to capture this moment!

"3! …3, can you hear me!" echoed a familiar voice from above. It was 7, now united with 9 and 4. "3, if you can hear me, blink your eyes!"

3 blinked as brightly as it could, but only a sliver of that light reached the surface. It was enough for 4 to confirm that the twin was still alive.

"Hang on, 3!" called 9. "We'll get you out of there!"

3 smiled and blinked back, but uncertainty was quick to capture its heart. How were they going to recover it, if there was no other way but to fall? And if they did fall, how could they fall back to the surface? It seemed there was no other choice but to move on, into the cave-like pipe, to find an alternate exit. And so, it began its journey, alone.

"There's gotta be an exit somewhere," guessed 7 as she began a frantic search for the sewer's safest opening.

"I'm guessing the ocean?"

7 scowled, "That's not funny, 9."

"I wasn't joking," he shrugged. "Don't sewers lead to oceans?"

"…Or rivers," hoped 7. "If we're lucky, there's an opening at the old bridge. But that's miles away…"

Feeling insecure, 4 tugged at 7's rope-belt. The female guardian patted it on the shoulder in reassurance. "Don't worry, 4, we'll get your sister back."

"…3's a girl?"

7's lens eyes narrowed at 9's naiveté; _of course_ the twins were female! 7 was sure of it. "Come on," she ordered; "we're heading for the bridge."

3 wasn't heading for the bridge, it was simply following a path that led to many forks and twists on the way. Eventually, it came to a new opening with a screwed-in shaft. But with its size, 3 easily squeezed through. This was an air shaft it traveled into, and once again it fell into another pit. But this time, the walls were not so narrow; this was a truly large hallway. …But to _what_?

Still undeterred by the creepy silence and darkness, 3 pressed on until it could find a clear doorway to the outside world. But that would have taken a very long walk indeed, especially for one so small.

3 walked and walked, until the hallway revealed sealed doors and dust-covered pictures on the walls. Had it stumbled upon an ancient bunker of some kind? An underground hideout for the humans, perhaps? Whatever it was, it made for some fine cataloging.

In truth, this was just one of many secret government hideouts, used by the Chancellor and his most trusted men, used to safeguard everything from documents to riches that only a human could appreciate. It was mankind's last resort, should supplies and resources in the outside world run out. There was no documentation of this underground base, and so for 3, this was a rare and truly interesting find.

All of the doors were locked tight, save for one. Through this one, 3 peered curiously. In the small room behind the door, all was still quiet and still. And very, very dark. The lights on the ceiling were shot out, possibly from gunfire. There were bullet holes on the walls too- clearly, some kind of battle took place here. Perhaps the machines were attacking as their armies advanced in the war's turning point- or perhaps the last humans fought over this place in a mad panic. The only clear evidence of humans being here was a torn skeleton in the far left corner by the doorway. What were they fighting against, 3 wondered? Machines? Each other? Just how desperate was the situation?

But then, a new object caught its lens eyes: on the farthest end of the room, cemented into the wall, was the doorway of a giant safe. The very kind of safe used in banks, observed 3. Yes, surely this is where the humans kept the last of their treasures. And unlike most of the room, the safe door was perfectly in tact. Perhaps the treasure was still in there, waiting to be hatched. 3 approached fearlessly.

But as the little Stitchpunk drew closer to the safe, new skeletons appeared through the darkness. They were both inhuman- long in the snout, like an animal's. They were lying down in defeat, each in front of an end of the safe door, as if they were guarding it. Within their eye sockets, there were orbs not unlike those of 3's own. Surely, these were war-beasts.

As 3 approached one of them cautiously, its eyes flickered around the beast's skull. Most of it was in tact, while its bottom jaw was steel. Its right eyeball was detached and dangling by its socket. There was a small crack in its forehead, indicating an injury. …Was it dead?

Then suddenly, a memory file opened in 3's subconscious; this skull was familiar! Its eye lenses dilated to open the file by means of an old-fashioned movie:

"_With the success of our new Feline Sentient program,_ (image of Cat-Beast)

"_Our scientists are quick to release their latest progenies: Project Canine Sentient. _(image of scientists unveiling a Dog-Beast, one looking exactly like the damaged one in the present)

"_These super-efficient guard-dogs come equipped with automatic voice commands- _("Halt! Intruder!")

"_-jaws of a Doberman Pincer, and twice as deadly! _(A Dog-Beast mauling a stuffed dummy as an example to its onlookers, shaking it to pieces)

"_-and with its own secret weapon, a gattling gun for disabling enemies, indefinitely. _(DogBeast revleals the barrel of a gattling gun from inside its mouth, uncoiling it and firing at a bulleye- **RAT-AT-AT-AT-AT-AT-AT!**)

"_Our canine sentients will safeguard your most valuable assets, from goods to children. Expect these perfect guardians to arrive in a home near you!" _(Dog-Beasts are lined up at doorways within a seemingly never-ending hallway, indicating that their line would be duplicated endlessly)

With the end of the transmission, 3 became much more intrigued by this newfound discovery- a Dog-Beast, in almost perfect condition! Who cared about human treasure? _This_ was in of itself a truly great discovery! How it wished the others were here to see it!

Then, its voice rumbled.

TBC


	2. Beware of DogBeast

ACT II: Beware of Dog-Beast

At last, she was awake!

The last thing the Dog-Beast remembered before being shutdown was the group of "unauthorized personnel" clambering into her Master's secret chamber, panic-stricken by the melee of war machines closing in on them from above ground. Once they realized they had struck gold- literally- they wasted no time in shooting at the two sentinel guardians at the side of the big safe. One was almost immediately destroyed, while the other was pounded down by a man's rifle butt. This was what inflicted her head wounds, including the severing of her right eye lens. Then everything went dark.

Now, with her left eye glowing an eerie lime green, it spotted a tiny bluish-grey creature, no bigger than the palm of a human hand, staring straight at her. Immediately, she engaged in defensive actions.

"Hal-al-alt! Intrud-d-d-d-er," her robotic voice stammered. Apparently, even her voicebox was a bit damaged.

3 recoiled in fear, realizing that its persistent eye-flickering had managed to alert the beast. It gave a wide burst toward the human skeleton by the exit door, the only shelter it knew.

The Dog-Beast shook off what dust and rubble had claimed her bony spine; her metallic parts were a bit rusty as her steely blue legs shivered in weakness. Underneath her bony rib cage was the gatling gun, armed with a full rack of bullets designed almost like the dog part's lower intestines. It had been a long time since she had felt the need to take action of any kind, and her old body was a little hesitant at first. But just as quickly as 3 was to run, the beast began to approach defensively.

"Intr-tr-tr-tr-truder. Halt. Prepare to be arresssssted."

Poor, trembling 3 thought that this was the end for him/her. The little Stitchpunk curled up in a fetal position behind the human skeleton's shattered remains.

"Ssstep forward. Do not r-r-r-resist." As its robotic voice snarled, her bone-and-steel jaws opened to ready the gun's barrel for firing.

Knowing that staying put cold spell its doom, 3 reluctantly and slowly emerged from the hiding place, both metallic hands in the air in surrender.

"…Identification, please," the beast suddenly said. It seemed that 3's non-aggression triggered the Dog-Beast's docile mode.

Confused, 3 just stared at her, its mouth gaped.

"Identification, pl-pl-pl-please?"

3 then glanced down to the number on its chest, and realized what the sentient canine meant: it needed an identification number to see if the Stitchpunk was authorized to be in the room. The Stitchpunk pulled on its "shirt," letting the beast see the number "3" clearly.

With her one good eye, she scanned the number. Though she was used to personnel having at least eight numbers on their I.D. cards, this one seemed to suffice. "Identification number 3, confirmed. W-w-w-welcome, visitor."

As the cybernetic beast marched back to her post by the safe door, 3 sighed a big sigh of relief. It was safe at last.

The old bridge, as 7 described, was a walkway over a rather large storm-water runoff. And she was right in that it was a connection between the storm-water sewers and the one in which 3 was believed to had fallen.

The team reached their destination by sundown. Like most of the world, this was a barren place with little to no water to trickle down the base of the runoff. But this was a good thing for the rescue party, for there was a clear opening of the sewer way from just underneath the bridge.

Using the ropes and wires they found on their salvaging mission, the Stitchpunks fashioned a line from the bridge to the open gap in the runoff's wall. It was just long enough to reach it, but getting inside of the hole would take swinging action.

"Looks like we're gonna have to do this the hard way," sighed 7. "9, you're the heaviest. You climb down first." 9 silently complied, and as he climbed down 7 went down after him, followed by 4.

Together, they began to swing like Tarzan of old, back and forth, until the open sewer hole was close enough to leap into. "Now!" exclaimed 7, and in a shot the three Stitchpunks let go of the line and were hurled into the dark and dank tunnel.

At first, there was just darkness, but then 9 remembered: he always carried a torch. In a flicker, his large light-bulb staff was aglow. "…Ugh, you smell that?" he recoiled.

"Yeah," replied 7 in equal disgust. "Smells like something died in here."

4 then clutched onto 9 for comfort. "Oh don't worry little guy," he smiled at the little one. "I'm sure your brother's alive."

Again, 7 gave him a look of disdain, but he just smiled and shrugged. He was convinced that the twins were both male. In reality, he and 7 were both wrong about the twins' genders -they had none- but their argument over the matter would likely go on forever.

"Let's not waste another minute," 7 frowned. "Come on, she could be in great danger."

The trio of tiny automatons rushed deeper and deeper into the dank cave, hoping against hope that they were heading in the right direction.

Unbeknownst to them, something on the outside was watching. Something with big sharp claws, and a single red eye…

3 was a clever little Stitchpunk, learned in the ways of fixing things through books and through observing late 'punks like 2 and 5. And just after earning the Dog-Beast's trust, he/she was now determined to put its talents to good use. He/she snatched up parts from the destroyed Dog-Beast and carried them over to its new "friend."

First, 3 fastened some small fragments of metal and strapped them together with leather string to form a pick tool. With it, 3 carefully unhooked the loose left eye of the guard dog and replaced it with the one from the "deceased" one. Now his/her new friend had 20/20 vision.

Next, the voice box needed to be rewired. No problem; a little tug here and a snip there, and it was good as new.

Finally, those legs had to be screwed on tighter. With patience and precision, 3 made yet another tool from old parts to make a wrench and began to tighten the rusty old bolts in the Dog-Beast's ligaments.

"Status report," observed the Dog-Beast; "Damage to self is now at a minimal." She wriggled her limbs as though to make sure they felt secure, and indeed they were. She then sat back down in her place; "Recommencing Primary Objective: Guard the safe."

Then it suddenly became clear to 3 that the creature was still on guard duty. Curiously, the little Stitchpunk glanced toward the enormous safe behind the Dog-Beast. It seemed as though no one had managed to open it, but 3 had to make absolutely sure.

Since he/she was accepted by the sentient canine, 3 crept toward the safe's hinges, eyes flickering as it cataloged. That's when it realized something very unusual: the hinges were bent. Something, or someone, _had_ managed to open it.

3 glanced back at his/her friend before exploring any further, but the Dog-Beast was as stiff as a statue at her post. The little 'punk then decided to continue its research, and bravely peered into the crevice of the safe door…

3's mouth then dropped dramatically, as though terribly saddened by what it had discovered.

The hours ticked by as 7 led her pack down the hall of darkness. Eventually, the storm pipe they traveled through gave way to an immense hall, one fit for humans. At last, they had reached the underground lair, only they didn't yet realize that it was a lair. Like 3 before, 4's eyes flickered in amazement at the moss-covered walls and rusty old doors, whereas 9 and 7 were far more cautious about what was up ahead.

"I swear," 7 mumbled to herself, "if anything happens to her, I'll never forgive myself.

"Don't worry," murmured 9 close by; "We'll find 3. And he's gonna be okay."

7 was no longer in the mood to argue; she simply sighed, "I wish I had your optimism… but ever since that battle with The B.R.A.I.N., anything can still happen."

"We haven't seen any war-beasts since B.R.A.I.N. was destroyed. I'm certain we've seen the last of them."

"You're certain…" 7 wanted to smile, but her mouth just wouldn't allow it.

In her lifetime, all she saw was violence and loss; who could blame her for being so paranoid?

9 certainly understood; he just wished he could give her some peace of mind. He had hoped that after the souls of The Fallen had been released, peace was restored to the world. He had also hoped that in seeing their souls fly toward freedom, 7 would have gained the same feeling of closure and comfort that he now had.

But as always, her inner-warrior was itching. She could never let her guard down, no matter what. Not even if there was peace in the world.

"Listen… Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"…I thought I heard something clattering up ahead."

"Maybe it's 3," smiled 9. 4 jumped up in excitement in response.

"Let's hope so," gulped 7 as she pressed the gang forward.

Actually, 7's ears weren't betraying her; there was a sort of ticking and scraping up ahead… but it was coming from the ceiling. Something was stalking them from above.

The Dog-Beast's eyes suddenly flushed from soft green to fiery read as she jumped to her feet; "Alert! Alert! Unauthorized personnel approaches!"

3 stepped back, stunned at the changing of the Dog-Beast's eyes. He/she had seen red eyes before, on war-beasts on the attack! Frightened by this, 3 felt the urge to run, but quickly realized that it was not himself/herself that the guardian was aiming her Doberman head at. Her fiendishly red eyes were staring down the exit door; something _else_ was coming…

TBC


	3. Primary Objective

ACT III: Primary Objective

Before there were Stitchpunks, before there were Dog-Beasts, Seamstresses, Winged Beasts, before The B.R.A.I.N. and even before The War… there were Cat-Beasts.

Created and designed by the same Scientist who would later give life to other wonders including the 'punks, the first Cat-Beast was born to hunt and salvage for survivors of terrible disasters such as earthquakes, hurricanes, and terrorist bombings.

Hunting was the only objective the sentient feline had, and therefore it was the very best at it. This talent would later be put to use during the first battles of The War, when it was just Man vs. Man. Cat-Beasts were deployed as spies and scouts in enemy territory, stealing everything from information to weaponry. But when the machines became involved, the little felines were all but obsolete… until The B.R.A.I.N. took them in.

B.R.A.I.N., the all-too-clever sentient being who masterminded the turning point of The War, used Cat-Beasts for salvaging any and all spare parts and scraps as they could, so that they could be recycled into new war machines, more "war-beasts" as they were called, and with help from The Fabrication Machine, their numbers grew to an alarming rate. When one fell, dozens more would take its place. That was the beginning of the end for mankind. All the while, the Cat-Beasts hunted on.

And on.

_SCREEEEEECH… SCREEEEECH… SCREEEEEECH!_

Its rusty claws managed to tear apart the old concrete from the outside world, and had now just barely scratched through the steel ceiling of the underground base. He was now one step closer to catching his prey.

This was a long-forgotten Cat-Beast, one that even The B.R.A.I.N. had forgotten about. Like many discarded war-beasts, it had abandoned its original mission after it no longer received orders from its symbiotic master; now it was simply hunting on its own- for pleasure, one would say.

He had spotted the Stitchpunks as they were wandering around the old neighborhood, but it was here in the underground lair, hidden between sewers and storm drains, where he decided to begin his true hunt. In his scrambled mind, they were nothing more than "mice," and that it was his mission to hunt and slay them. Yes, slaying was the only other thing this Cat-Beast knew how to do, besides hunting. And he liked them both.

And he was very skilled at both.

"I definitely hear something up ahead," whispered 7, gripping tightly onto her spear as she, 9 and 4 came closer to the only opened door in this vast and dark hallway.

At this point, even 9 was beginning to feel fearful, and clutched onto his own staff despite the fact that it wasn't meant to be used as a weapon. Little 4 jumped behind him as if to use 9's body as a shield, should the worst happen.

"You two stay here," commanded the female, as she slid her avian skullmet over her face in preparation for battle.

"What if you need help?" gulped 9 nervously.

"I can handle it, I've fought war-beasts ten times my size." Confidently yet quietly, she approached the doorway. With the agility of a ninja, 7 swooped to the edge of the door before peeking in, and then crouched down like a tiger upon entering it.

Silence fell very quickly, causing 4 to squeeze 9's plush arm in worry.

9 patted the little one's blue-hooded head. "It's… it's probably nothing. …Probably a bug, or a… mouse… or a-"

"_DOG!"_ screamed 7's voice from inside the chamber, followed by:

"_**BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK**__!"_

9 and 4's lens eyes closed in almost completely and their mouth gaped as widely as they could, as the sudden noises jolted their composure. But as terrified as they were, they also felt the need to charge.

"7!" cried out 9, as he ran for the door.

3 would have been a much happier little Stitchpunk, if his friends were not given such an unpleasant welcome. He/she stood helplessly by the safe, while the Dog-Beast sentinel went into attack mode upon 7's arrival.

Though her jaws did not move to the voice of her female mechanical voice, they certainly moved to the Doberman Pincer barks she made: "**BARK-BARK-BARK-BARK**!"

Perhaps it was a sign of her inner-dog being let loose, whilst her mechanical nature was secondary- at least when it came to attacking.

Meanwhile, was completely shocked when her eyes met the burning red ones of a cybernetic attack dog, a creature that was certainly bigger than any she had previously combated with. But scared as she was, she couldn't let the creature win, for her friends- her family- depended on her. It became all the more clear when she saw that 3 was there, alive and well, trying to wave her down.

As 9 and 4 raced in, 7 called to them, "Look, it's got 3! I'll hold off the beast while you go save her!"

"Right. I'll go get him, and you hold off the…" He really had no time for 7's scowl at that moment. "Oh, forget it!" 9 grabbed 4 by the arm and dashed under the Dog-Beasts' legs.

At first, the Dog-Beast didn't notice them until after they had fled from her sight. Her focus was on 7, the tiny creature with the skullmet and spear. In the beast's cybernetic eyes, she could clearly recognize the blade as a weapon. And therefore, her mainframe flashed in bright red: **HOSTILE! HOSTILE! HOSTILE!**

"You are under arrest for trespassing," came her robotic voice as her dog mouth snarled. "Prepare to be detained. Do not resist."

"Try me," snarled 7, as she swung her spear at the Dog-Beast's face.

The iron and bone jaws snapped at her, but 7 practically flew out of the way with her nimble legs, followed immediately by a back-flip. The beast pursued with its swiping steel claws until 7 was backed into a corner. But she was quick to deploy her spear to the cyborg's left eye. Unfortunately for 7, it was deflected with very little damage. Now the beast was angry.

"Do not resist," warned the female voice again, followed immediately by slashing jaws. They managed to slice into 7's left thigh, but beings she was made almost entirely out of cloth, she recovered quickly.

Meanwhile, 3 and 4 smiled ever so widely as they embraced each other lovingly.

"3, you're safe!" smiled 9 as he joined in on their brief reunion. "You _are_ safe, right?"

3 nodded quickly, then its eyes flickered into 4's as if conversing through Morse Code. 4's eyes responded with the same rapid flickering, its mouth now dwindled to a trance-like gape.

Confused, 9 asked, "What's going on? What_ is_ that thing?" as he pointed to the Dog-Beast.

Together, the twin punks flickered their camera lens eyes into his, but their flashing was so fast that he could barely translate them. Until finally, one series of clicks and flashes made out one recognizable code word: "…Sentinel?"

At this point, the sentient canine had 7 in its mouth and her jaws were bearing down on her. She tried to hold them in place with her spear, but it was now starting to bend out of shape. 7 only had seconds to roll out of that mouth, or else she was done for. **–SNAP!** She made it out just in time. But now her spear was severed in two, and fell in two different places.

The Dog-Beast tried to crush her with its massive steel paw, but 7 was resourceful and used her bird skull for a helmet as a new weapon. She plunged its beak in between two of the beasts' toes and pried them apart. Once she wiggled herself to freedom, she took off in a mad dash toward the safe door. Big mistake.

"…Primary Objective: Guard the safe!" came the beast's womanly voice.

Once the beast's eyes saw that the intruder was headed for the safe, the beast opened her mouth as widely as she could, thus uncoiling her secret weapon: the machine gun barrel!

**RAT-AT-AT-AT-AT-AT-AT-AT-AT!**

Though her left leg was scratched and her weapons discarded, 7 charged on until she was merely inches away from the nearest hiding spot, which was nothing more than a pile of rubble. "Everybody down!" she screamed, as the others took cover under debris.

Bullets sprayed and ricocheted; sparks burst, and pellets rained down from the walls. It was almost like a scene from The War, and by the look of terror on 7's face as she lunged for the rubble pile, she might as well have been reliving it.

But as quickly as the violence began, it was over. The Dog-Beast wouldn't dare so much as dent the safe door; so once 7 had fallen beside it, the bullet barrage stopped.

7 took a moment to cough as dust filled the air; but while she did that, she soon became enveloped by the shadow of her attacker. The sentient canine was now leaning over her, its wide-open mouth still poised to fire.

That's when 9 rushed in, stopping just in front of 7 in an effort to shield her. He held up his light bulb staff, but it was no threat to the beast and the beast knew it.

But instead of firing the gun, its pre-recorded human voice purred, "Identification, please."

3 knew what to do; the little 'punk and its twin rushed in and skidded to a halt in front of 9. Together, they turned him around so that his back was facing the tall creature.

"Wh-what're you doing?" 9 asked them in mid-panic.

But just as the twins had hoped, the cyborg canine's eyes scanned the number on his back, as it did with 4's chest number. "Identification numbers 9 and 4: Confirmed." And with that, the beast's red eyes changed to a softer, mellower green.

"Ugh," winced a weakened but still determined 7. "Quick, now's our chance. Destroy it!"

"Wait," muttered a bewildered 9, his lens eyes fixated on the beasts'.

"What!" growled 7. "What do you mean, 'Wait?' That thing is a war-machine!"

9 turned his head to her; how he was the one with the commanding scowl. "That _thing_… just stopped its attack. War-machines don't just stop… I think the twins are right: This isn't a beast, it's a sentinel."

7 rose to her feet, looking a bit frazzled and dusty, yet her pride was far more wounded than her body. "You have got to be kidding… Then why did it attack us?"

"You attacked first," replied 9 with a sly grin; he knew his friend all too well at this point. And indeed he was right; he had to be, because for her reply, 7 simply scoffed.

Then the beasts' eyes scanned 7 for an identification number, which proved problematic giving that 7's marked number had been patched up and was now unrecognizable. "Unauthorized personnel," her voice mused, as her Doberman snout snorted.

"Oh, lemmie fix that," suggested 9. He then dipped his copper index finger in dirt and tried as best he could to write over the patchwork on 7's back. Then he had the sentient canine look it over. "See? 7."

The cyborg took its time to make sure that the scribbling on the Stitchpunk's back was a clear number. "…Identification number 7: Confirmed."

The warrior-punk couldn't help but feel amazed- not just at this machine's intelligence, but by how it had suddenly turned docile. One minute, it was trying to eat her, the next it's sitting up as though it were waiting for a treat.

Then its recorded voice spoke again: "Resuming Primary Objective: Guard the safe." The cyborg canine stood up and marched over to its post by the safe door and sat there like a gargoyle. All was quiet again.

As the others looked on in curiosity, 7 dusted her arms and said, "Alright, show's over. Let's all go home."

"Hold on," argued 9; "This thing's some kind of guardian. What exactly is it guarding?"

3 and 4 looked to each other with knowing smiles, and together they waved to 7 and 9 as a beckoning call. They coaxed the taller 'punks toward the safe, passing by a new docile guardian, and came to the small crack in the door's hinges.

3 and 4 helped each other in, while 7 and 9 took their turns. 9 was the last to enter, wisely carrying his light bulb staff with him.

Once inside the safe, 9 powered up the light bulb to give it maximum illumination. He then held up the staff as high as he could, but their hopes of finding treasure were soon dashed…

"It's empty," observed 7.

Indeed, there were shelves from the floor to the ceiling on all three sides of the safe, but they were all barren- save for perhaps a few dollars and small pearls, and maybe one gold coin. None of that really mattered to the 'punks, yet they learned of money and its association with the economy through old archives courtesy of the twins.

"There must have been a huge treasure of money and jewels here," guessed 9, "and now it's all gone… And that creature. It has no idea."

While 7 was still indifferent about the Dog-Beast and its welfare, 9 and the twins exchanged frowns in pity for the beast.

The rogue Cat-Beast was still on the prowl, stalking the footprints left behind by the Stitchpunks in the underground corridors. Its blood-red eye was picking up small amounts of heat from the prints, indicating that the 'punks' energy was small but just visible enough to count as a scent. The cat's robotic voice purred, knowing that he was closing in on the mice…

9 emerged from the safe door's damaged hinge first, dragging with him the only dollar bill he could find. 3 and 4 were right behind him eagerly, while 7 followed them with a look of concern that was reserved only for them.

The taller, brown 'punk walked up to the still Dog-Beast and held up the dollar bill. "Look, sentinel. This is what you've been guarding; the rest is all gone now."

The giant cyborg gazed down at him with soft green eyes, but otherwise had no response.

"There's nothing left here," 9 tried to explain. "You can leave now if you want."

Then the pre-recorded voice within the beast's throat said, "Primary Objective: Guard the safe."

"But that's what I'm trying to tell you: the safe is empty."

"Primary Objective: Guard the safe."

"I know you think you're obeying your masters, but… they're gone now. Everyone else is gone. You're free now."

"….Primary Objective-"

"Guard the safe," muttered 7 and 9 as the beast repeated itself.

7 sighed, "It's no use 9, you can't reason with it. It has no free will… I think it's best that we just leave it alone."

He sighed, "I know you're right, it's not ours to keep… but tell that to _them_."

That's when the warrior-punk noticed her "children," 3 and 4, hugging one of the beast's forelegs. "Oh no," she started to sternly scowl as she approached them. "No, no, no, no, no. Kids, we're not taking it with us."

The twins clasped their hands in prayer as if to beg please.

"No! Let's go, we have to leave it."

The twins then hid from her behind the dog's leg.

"I'm putting my foot down! Here it goes, it's going… going… There. It's all the way down now! See?"

Finally, 9 approached the defiant twins. "I'm sorry, kids, but 7's right. I know you like it, I like it too, but it's not-"

"Alert!" barked the recorded voice of the sentient canine as it jumped to its steel and bony feet.

The four little Stitchpunks gathered together by the sentinel's side; 7 grabbed the sharp end of her severed staff, while 9 grabbed his light bulb staff. 3 and 4 embraced each other in fear, as their eyes along with the eyes of everyone else turned to the open exit door. Tensions rose as they all waited for what could have been out there.

But then, to their surprise, a small golden bolt came trickling in through the door. It rolled around until it settled on the floor, disturbing nothing more than dust. The 'punks gazed at it in wonder; what that the threat their big ally warned about?

No. It was a diversion, set up by the real threat about to storm in: the Cat-Beast!

**RAWR!**

It flew into the room before anyone even had a chance to react. But then 7 screamed, "Cat-Beast!" as it launched itself at her and her friends. Stitchpunks scattered like bugs, desperate to get out of the path of the killing machine. The Cat-Beast seemed to smile as he switched gears from 9, to 7, to 4, and to 9 again; it was like this was all just a game for him. Perhaps his inner-cat had won out after all.

The Dog-Beast, meanwhile, stood vigilant at the safe's doorway, snarling and growling whenever the enemy beast came near. She looked confused; what were her orders in this situation? Was she to keep defending the safe, or the personnel under attack? She was all too hesitant, until…

Snatch! Poor little 4 was caught by the cyber-cat and dangling from its front teeth helplessly.

"No, 4!" gasped 7 in horror.

9 tried to charge, shouting, "Let go, you monster!" But the beast swatted him like a fly with its giant steel claws.

Then 9, winded from the attack, turned to the sentinel on guard for help. "Sentinel. Please! …D-do something."

"Primary Objective: Guard the safe."

7 observed, "9! It's getting away with 4!"

Again, 9 pleaded with the Dog-Beast. "Your mission is to protect. Not just the safe, but everything! Even us! You must listen to me! Please!"

"Primary Objective: Guard the safe."

9 growled in frustration, then took a small second to think. At last, he had an idea: "Sentinel, commence Secondary Objective!"

The Dog-Beast's head twitched, as if his command caused a glitch in her system. "…Order is to switch to Secondary Objective: Safeguard personnel. Confirm?"

"Yes, confirm. Do it!"

"Compliance. Commencing Secondary Objective: Safeguard personnel."

The Cat-Beast was almost through the exit, when suddenly its hind foot was snagged by something. Curiously, it turned its head, and stared into the bright red eyes of the Dog-Beast! It snarled viciously at him, but the Cat-Beast would not let go of its still-living prey.

The Dog-Beast pulled back on the cat's leg, forcing it back inside the room. In retaliation, the cat sliced its front claws against the dog's skull. That only made her angry. Quickly, the dog's steel and bony jaws clamped onto the cat's neck, but the cat's back legs managed to pull it out of the grasp.

Then, in a desperate move, the cat raised its head to make 4 shield its face from the dog. It also raised a claw to 4, as if threatening to shred the little 'punk if the Dog-Beast persisted to attack it. The Dog-Beast reacted by opening her mouth and pulling out the machine gun barrel between her teeth.

"NO!" screamed 7. "You'll hit 4!" 9 grabbed her arm, holding her back. His trust was with the sentinel.

The Dog-Beast indeed had a plan. She stood there perfectly still, locked and loaded to fire which forced the Cat-Beast to also hold still. After a moment of pause, the dog turned its head away, as if its attention was drawn elsewhere. This caught the Cat-Beast off guard, as its head turned to the side. That's exactly what the dog wanted it to do; now it had a clear shot.

**RAT-AT-AT-AT-AT-AT-AT-AT-AT-AT!**

The bullets severed the Cat-Beast's left arm and neck, causing its jaws to open and therefore release 4. 4 fell softly to the ground, unscathed.

But now the cat was furious, and let loose the last of its strength on the dog. It lunged with its back legs and slammed itself into the Dog-Beast's face. This time, it was not letting go, not until the sentinel gave it one last helping of bullets-

**RAT-AT-AT-AT-AT-AT-AT-AT!**

-then jerked its head to send the cat flying across the room. It slammed into the safe door with a mighty **"CLANG!"**

The force of the blow was enough to sever the remaining hinge on the safe door, and slowly it began to slump over in defeat.

While still in its Secondary Objective mode, the Dog-Beast approached the safe door, focusing on the still-active but badly damaged Cat-Beast. It crawled underneath the safe door, hoping to hide from its attacker, but all that did was provide the villain with a perfect burial ground. Under the dog's weight, the safe door at last collapsed, right on top of the Cat-Beast.

_WHOOSH!_

When the dust settled, the Stitchpunks were reunited and rejoiced in their safety, especially 4's.

9 was the first to look back at the sentient guard-dog, and noticed that it was standing perfectly still atop the crushed safe door. It was peering into the safe's interior, as if observing it for the first time in eons.

Within her memory file, the Dog-Beast clearly remembered these shelves having gold bars, money stacks, jewels of various shapes, sizes and colors. But all of that was gone now, just as 9 tried to explain to her. Now that she can see it for herself, her eyes turned back to a soft green. Not only that, her mood was spookily changed to what one could only describe as remorseful:

"Status report: Damage to safe door is at maximum. Contents to safe are at 0 to 3.4 percent. …Primary Objective: Guard the safe = Failed."

To the amazement of the Stitchpunks (including 7), the dog's head bowed in response to its own status report. In that one brief moment, the beast was no longer machine, but a true canine, one that had just learned that it had misbehaved and was now deemed "a bad dog."

9 and 7 stood there in awe, while the twins were quick to run up to their giant friend and sit themselves on each of her front paws. They waited patiently until she acknowledged them, and her eyes lit brightly green.

"Primary Objective: Safeguard personnel."

9 and 7 turned to each other after hearing this, and smiled. "…We're gonna need a dog house," concluded the female warrior.

In time, the Stitchpunks would discover that several other rogue beasts were still out there, all lost souls trying to carry out missions of hunting and trapping as best they could. But for once, the little living dolls were no longer in fear of them; they could still make a home for themselves and eke out a living, despite the hazards of life and violent neighbors.

For now they had a guard-dog, a perfect sentinel, a Sentient Canine.

…Better known to them as 0.

END


End file.
